Bones, Booth, and Baby Booth
by boothaddict77
Summary: A collection of one-shots.


**A/N: It think we've all wondered what Booth must be like as a dad- well, I wouldn't want him to be my dad, obviously, because then I'd have many, many, many issues- I don't even want to think about the therapy bills- but Booth being a dad is very hot. And this is why I wrote this. Some bits might be confusing to read with flashbacks and such, but just remember that past events are in ****_italics _****and try to follow along. This is more of a two-shot condensed into a one shot, really, but I don't feel up to revising it and splitting it in half. Hope you enjoy it, anyhow. There may be more to come. Also, please point out any glaring errors or formatting issues. I'm very sleepy.**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**The Grey in the Hair**

The shouting match was already in full swing by the time Brennan returned to the house. The key turned in the lock, but neither of them heard.

'CHRISTINE ANGELA BOOTH, YOU GO PUT SOMETHING OVER THAT RIGHT NOW!'

'BUT I DON'T _WANT _TO WEAR A JACKET, IT'S HOT OUT-'

'I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU WANT, YOU ARE NOT LEAVING THE HOUSE IN THAT- THAT- THAT _THING_!'

'AUNT ANGE GAVE ME _THIS THING, _I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW, AND IT'S VERY-'

'AND YOU CAN BE DAMNED SURE I'LL BE HAVING A TALK WITH ANGELA ABOUT THIS THE FIRST CHA-'

'- YOU CAN'T JUST TELL ME WHAT TO DO-'

'OHH YES I CAN, I _AM_ YOUR FATHER THOUGH YOU SEEM TO HAVE-'

'AND I SUPPOSE YOU THINK THAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO DO WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT-!'

'YEAH I DO, ACTUALLY. SO GO UPSTAIRS RIGHT NOW AND-'

'AAAAAAAAAGH!

Brennan materialised at his elbow to find husband and daughter locked in a mutinous staring contest, and arranged her face in a carefully neutral expression to hide her amusement. Not that her furious offspring spared her a glance. She almost appeared to be emitting sparks of rage, Brennan mused. Christine had been lashing out at her parents, unprovoked, with increasing frequency now – especially her protective father (who had gotten increasingly paranoid when she hit puberty); Brennan wasn't particularly concerned because she knew it was perfectly normal for an adolescent to be prone to erratic behaviour and hormonal outbursts at her daughter's age- and Christine's teenage rebellion was quite mild in comparison with most kids her age- but a bewildered Booth had sworn he'd gotten twice as grey in the past few months than he ever had before. Truth be told, Brennan was quite enjoying the whole thing. She didn't even feel guilty about it because she knew that father and daughter had a solid bond at the end of the day that could not be easily broken. She looked up at her fuming daughter at the top of the stairs- hands still on her hips, eyes still locked on her father's- unconsciously mirroring his pose- and smiled. And she relished not being the bad guy for once.

Booth had always been a bit of a pushover as far as his daughter was concerned- few years previously a puppy face and a few tears usually ended with Booth bringing her anything she asked for- and cake and fluffy taffeta strewn all across the living room with a smiling child sitting in the middle of a mess while a sheepish, irritated and mildly regretful Booth endured the wrath of his wife. He'd blamed it all on her- once during a very heated conversation on the subject, tempers and insults flying as they'd recklessly invaded each other's personal space at some point during their shouting match, when they'd both been standing nose to nose, and she'd begun yelling at him for indulging their daughter's every whim instead of setting a precedent for good parenting by teaching her not to be greedy, he'd come flat out and said it.

_'Booth, you can't indulge-!'_

_'It's all your fault!'_

_'_My_ fault?! How is any of this myfault?!'_

_'She has your eyes! She has your eyes, dammit, and I can't say no!'_

He'd seemed to realise the ridiculousness of that statement a moment later, though, and they both realised their position- lips a breath apart, chests heaving- and Booth's eyes fell to her lips as he licked his own but he caught himself before he could do what she really, really wanted him to do- and she wouldn't have the strength to keep him from doing; and even as her lips tingled in anticipation she was glad that he'd stepped away because if he hadn't then this argument would have gone the same way as so many others- temporarily unresolved. He raked a hand through his hair as he turned away from her, but then he came right back, as he always did. 'Look, I'm sorry, Bones. You're right. I know I shouldn't have said yes, but then she looked at me, and…' _much in the way you're looking at me right now_ 'I'll- I'll get all those cushions dry cleaned and get the chocolate stains off the couch, alright?' He flashed her a charming smile and even offered to do the dishes and the laundry for the next week but it was very clear by that point that he really wanted to get into her pants and she really wanted to let him. 'I shouldn't have given in like that. It won't happen again.' And then he kissed her. But ofcourse he did give in to the next tantrum, and it did happen again. And, although she informed him she could not be assigned blame- or credit- for passing on genetic characteristics that he had a particular susceptibility to- Booth maintained his original defence, because it was true; when Bones cried, he took one look in those eyes and he wanted to hold her close forever, and comfort her and tell her everything would be OK and breathe her in until they shared the same space and she believed him and everything bad was forgotten- when their daughter cried, he panicked and got desperate, and once she learned to talk he was ready to rope in the moon if she asked for it and give it to her- anything to make her stop.

Needless to say, this habit of his- he never learned from his mistakes in this particular regard- had led to several parental disagreements over the years, not all of them as pleasant as others- but now Christine was getting older, her demands had begun to grow with her; and a car for New Year's Eve- following an iPad for Christmas (settled on after some negotiation with the help of a mediating Brennan when the request for a gun had been met with a 'hell no' just as vehement as the one he'd given her mother)- was just not as easy to agree to. So Booth had been learning to say no to a lot of things, and the younger Booth had been throwing tantrums all over the place.

Brennan was roused from her reflections just as the stalemate between the two Booths was finally broken, when Christine turned on her heel with a loud huff and headed back in the direction of her bedroom, muttering furiously.

'Are you ready, baby- ?' Booth asked his wife absently, watching their daughter go; he was still looking after here as Brennan spoke up.

'Booth, maybe you should be a little more lax about allowing her to dress as she chooses. It's important to cultivate a sense of-'

'Bones, did you see that thing?' he continued without waiting for a response. 'Well no, ofcourse you didn't, it was practically nonexistent. And you know Sanders is bringing his kid today- remember Trent? He's 17, and he's been eyeing up Chrissie ever since he graduated high school.'

'Booth, he seemed like a perfectly nice boy and he appeared to appreciate Christine's intellect and conversation at the department heads' Christmas party. Besides, I'm fairly certain I've worn a cocktail dress quite like that one to one of your work galas when we first started working together-'

Booth snorted. '17 year old boys don't know the meaning of the word 'intellect'. And I promise you, Bones- I may not have been able to say it back then but let me tell you, when you wore those little dresses I wasn't thinking-' he finally turned to look at her, and his mouth went dry. He swallowed. 'About, uh, what I'm not thinking about right… uh, now', he finished lamely.

Brennan smirked and rolled her eyes. 'Well, I'm glad to know you only sought me out at these events because of my physical appearance while pretending to derive enjoyment my company. It's reassuring that you consider me a piece of chicken-'

'Meat, Bones', he corrected automatically, moving closer. 'Piece of meat.' He licked his lips. And I'll have you know…' He rounded the counter to where she stood and stalked towards her predatorialy. 'I have the greateset respect for your'- his eyes swept over the curves of her bodice '…intellect…' his eyes moved lower, 'and conversation.' He added the last on a slight growl.

His eyes burned black as they devoured her and she suddenly felt undressed instead of overdressed, as she had earlier worried she might have been.

'Booth?'

'Mm.'

'Not now.'

She licked her lips, looked at his. Thin sensual line that tilted up into a little side-smile as he noted where her gaze- and thoughts- had shifted.

'We're running late as it is.'

Booth didn't look inclined to listen or care. He leaned in, but then they heard a slam from upstairs. Booth sighed again. He pulled away only slightly, then rested his forehead against hers. And sighed again.

'Bones, I don't know what to do', he mumbled. 'And I swear, it's getting worse.'

'It's only a phase, Booth.' She raked her hands through his hair soothingly, and he shivered as his hand- which had been stroking up her back, across her shoulderblades, down to her wrist- paused and his grip tightened on her arm as he pulled her closer. 'She'll grow out of it soon. It'll pass', she reassured him for the millionth time.

'Yeah, but what if it doesn't?' he mumbled into her shoulder, sounding almost petulant- remarkably like their daughter. Brennan almost rolled her eyes even as she smiled and resisted the urge to shake her head.

'It will, Booth. Just be patient.' Her hand stroked over his head gently, and she couldn't resist tugging slightly as she reached the hairs at the base of his neck.

'Yeah, but- mm… Bones, I'm trying, I really am.' She slapped his wandering hands as they moved smoothly but firmly down her back, after allowing them further than they should have gone, eliciting a shiver from her. He settled for pulling her against him instead as he moved his face away a few inches. She rested her hands on his rock hard chest with a gasp.

'And don't think I'm not going to talk to Angela about this either. It's not the first time she's 'lent' Chrissie something she really shouldn't be wearing.' He emphasised the word lent because they both knew it should really be 'bought'- Angela's favourite pastime was taking Christine shopping. Booth paused, and a flash of hurt passed through his eyes. 'Do you know that last week she told me off for laying it in to her godmother?' he asked incredulously. Brennan did know. It was impossible not to overhear their arguments lately, even while doing anthropological research in a different room. With the door closed.

'I know, Booth.' She stroked his chest soothingly, attempting to ease his tension. 'I'm sure she didn't mean it. She knows you love Ange.'

Booth still looked quite miserable. She placed a kiss to his chest and he shuddered involuntarily, but relaxed under her touch.

Brennan thought back to the argument in question- or the bits she'd heard atleast. Booth had evidently found a less than modest dress hanging in Christine's open wardrobe while returning the laundry to her room, and- to his credit- inquired quite calmly where she'd gotten it, and whom it belonged to. Christine had- also quite calmly- revealed her source, and claimed ownership of the dress. Suffice to say the ensuing 'discussion' had not been calm in the least.

_'AND JUST WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN, DAD-?'_

_'I'M JUST SAYING THAT IT IS INAPPRORIATE FOR SOMEONE YOUR AGE TO-'_

_'AUNT ANGE BOUGHT ME THAT DRESS!_

_'ANGELA IS A GROWN WOMAN, SHE'S ENTITLED TO WEAR WHAT SHE LIKES. YOU ON THE OTHER HAND-'_

_'DON'T YOU INSULT MY GODMOTHER LIKE THAT! SHE-'_

_There was a brief lull in the shouting, during which Brennan assumed Booth was attempting to explain to Christine that he was not, in fact, trying to insult Angela- then the shouting started up again._

_'I AM FIFTEEN YEARS OLD. I'M NOT A CHILD ANYMORE AND-'_

_'AND IF YOU WANTED TO BE TREATED LIKE A RESPONSIBLE ADULT THEN YOU'LL START ACTING LIKE ONE.'_

At this point, Brennan had gotten up and made her way down the hall to diffuse the argument- upon learning the particulars (she hadn't missed much) she insisted Christine apologise to her father, who waved her off.

_'Leave it, Bones. It's OK. G'night, Chris.' _

_After shutting the door dejectedly, he guided them back down the hall. Once they'd reached their bedroom, he turned to Brennan and stuffed his hands in his pockets- he opened his mouth to speak and his Adam's apple bobbed once, but no words seemed forthcoming. And he looked so boyish and vulnerable that she threw her arms around him tightly. He buried his face in her hair._

_'That was out of line, Booth. She should have apologised. I'm sure she'll realise her own mistake and come around later.'_

_'She hates me, Bones.' He mumbled into her hair._

_'Booth, she doesn't hate you, she's just upset-'_

_'No, I know she doesn't, but it's not just about this. You _know_ that. She's been jumping down my throat every chance she gets, and she's been so pissed off at me for the past two days and I don't even know what I've done…'_

_Brennan opened her mouth to speak, but then remembered something and shut it again. Booth noticed the action as he pulled away to look at her face. __**Well, I might. **_

_'What? What do you know, Bones?' He asked desperately, almost eagerly. 'What did I do?'_

_Brennan wrinkled her nose adorably in the way that she had when she was feeling bad about something that distracted him only for a moment. 'Um, you took a shower.' She bit her lip. 'And got dressed._

_'I- what?'_

_'Remember that day Christine had her friends over for a slumber party-'_

_'Yeah, and she got mad at me for calling it a 'slumber party.' He grinned. She hadn't really been mad then, just irritated enough to warrant that singsong 'Da-ad!' in chastisement that he actually quite loved hearing._

_'Yes. And then her friend Sandra accidentally wandered in looking for the guest bathroom-'_

_'How is that my fault? Bones, that kid was in our bedroom. None of her friends should have been in here, or in this part of the house without our permission, Chrissie knows that.' Booth flushed slightly and she knew he was recalling the incident- apparently he'd just stepped out of the shower to find an unfamiliar girl standing open-mouthed in their bedroom doorway and she'd fled before he could even get a word out._

_'Yes, but, um', Brennan walked towards the bed and rested her foot on the frame as she began unzipping her work boots. 'It… bothered Christine that her friends saw you like that.'_

_'Why?' Booth scratched the back of his head, moving into the room and discarding his t-shirt one-handed as he got changed for bed- and revealing the __**'why' **__quite clearly to his appreciative wife. 'I mean, that girl Sandy-'_

_'Sandra', she corrected._

_'Whatever, Sandra was gone in a flash and it's not like I was naked or something. Atleast I had a towel on.' He shuddered. 'Thank God.' He paused thoughtfully, trying to remember how he'd have felt about a situation like this as a child. 'But is it really that big of a deal?' He pulled on a fresh t-shirt, soft fabric and hard muscles bunching, and Brennan groaned softly._

_'Bones?'_

_'Hm? Oh, yes. Um. Sandra might only have been here a moment, as you say, but apparently she returned to the room and told Christine what a 'hot dad' she has, and the rest of the girls spent the night talking about you.' _

_'What?' Booth looked mildly mortified. 'Bones, those girls are _fifteen-_' his voice dropped to a scandalised whisper and Brennan rolled her eyes._

_'Actually, Sandra Banks is 17', she informed him wryly, draping a new shirt over the side of the bed. 'You might want to be careful there.'_

_'Yeah, but still…' he grumbled for a bit and shuddered- and then moved on to looking quite pleased with himself as he leaned back on his hands and surveyed his wife happily from where he sat at the edge of the bed. 'So they thought I was hot, huh?'_

_Brennan raised an eyebrow at him, but her less-than-amused expression came across more amused than she'd intended. Now it was his turn to be distracted as she set to removing the shirt she had on. She paused after undoing the second button when she remembered she'd left her phone on the sink counter and this time he let out a groan of disappointment- he didn't bother hiding it and he was much louder than she had been, too- as she disappeared into the bathroom. When she returned, toothbrush in hand and adorably bundled in an oversized robe, they began talking about The Incident again._

_'Apparently they were, and I quote, 'talking about Daddy's muscles and his job and it was totally disgusting'. And it was most irrational of her but Christine was quite upset with you as a result, as I recall, even though she assured me-' she disappeared off into the bathroom to spit, wiped her mouth daintily and returned to find her husband with his head buried in his hands._

_'_Why_?' he cursed softly. This time Booth's groan was one of pained frustration. 'Ofcourse she was upset', he mumbled. 'That must have completely ruined her first sleepover with her new friends.' He hung his head._

_'It's not your fault, Booth.'_

_He sighed. 'I know that, but I still feel bad. Maybe I should talk to her in the morning.'_

_Brennan consulted the clock by their bed.* 'You could talk to her now', she suggested. 'It's only seven.'_

_'Is it?' Booth looked up in surprise. 'Today's been an awfully long day for a Sunday, hasn't it?'_

_'All days last for exactly the same length of time, Booth.'_

_He ignored that. 'And you went into work, too, baby, you must be exhausted.'_

_Brennan shrugged. Booth got to his feet. He raked a hand through his hair. 'I swear, Bones, I've aged ten years in the past few days.'_

_'Age is another temporal construct that cannot be accelerated or-'_

_But he was already heading out the door. Brennan huffed._

_Then he threw a 'Well, are you coming?' over his shoulder and she rolled her eyes, placed her toothbrush back in the stand, and made to follow her husband._

_They'd found Christine downstairs raiding the fridge, a large bowl in one hand and a tub of chocolate ice cream in the other. Booth raised an eyebrow but said nothing. It was clear that she had inherited her mother's tendencies in this department. Brennan appeared behind him and quickly determined that their child was beginning to fall into a pattern as she adjusted to her newly initiated menstrual cycle. When Christine turned to her parents, arms full of junk and spoon between her teeth, she remained silent- not that she had many other options at the moment- but glared at her father as if to ask, 'what do _you _want?' Knowing that they needed to sort this out between the two of them, Brennan wisely kept her mouth shut. _

_'Uh, Chrissie, can we talk?'_

_She looked to her mother, who remained dangerously expressionless but simply raised a perfectly shaped brow, and back to her slightly apprehensive, much less intimidating, hulking father. Grudgingly, she allowed the pile of junk to fall onto the counter and it appeared as if she was about to spit the spoon out unceremoniously but one look at Brennan and she placed it down without so much as a clatter._

_'I'm listening.'_

_Booth, it would appear, although eager to have this conversation, had not thought it through at all- he too, turned to Brennan for guidance and she rolled her eyes and gave him the same raised brow as he swallowed nervously and turned back to their daughter, realising he was on his own. He took a deep breath and then began speaking._

_'Well, your mum and I were talking and uh, she mentioned that, you know-' mum had by this point curled up on the couch in the living room with a book, just within visible - and hearing distance, just in case the shouting started. She gave him a look to say, 'go on', and he turned back to his daughter whose expression revealed a mixture of boredom and annoyance and gulped again. 'Right. She told me that, you know, that day your friends were over, Sandra walked in on- walked in just as I was leaving the bathroom-'_

_'And saw you naked, yes, I know', came the fuming interruption. _

**_Flinch._**

_'I was NOT- I was not naked', Booth lowered his voice with considerable effort. 'I was wearing a towel. And Chrissie, you can't blame me for walking out of my own bathroom to get dressed in my own bedroom!' He frowned, looking puzzled for a moment. _

_'Hold on, why _was _she there? She said she was looking for the bathroom, but there's one in your room _and _one out in the hall if that was occupied- she had to have passed it on the way-'_

_'Good. Question. Dad.' Christine gritted out, squeezing her discarded spoon in a death-grip. 'And I'm. Well. Aware.'_

_'In any case, that girl shouldn't have been in that part of the house, you know that, you said so yourself-'_

_'Yes, I did, and I apologised, didn't I?' She didn't look very apologetic at all._

_'I'm not angry, sweetheart, I didn't want you to apologise, I'm just trying to-'_

_'Do you have any idea HOW EMBARRASSING IT WAS-'_

_Brennan cleared her throat loudly and shifted in her seat but didn't rise. The level of Christine's voice dropped, and she trailed off, refusing to meet her father's eyes._

_'Chrissie', Booth tried again gently, tilting his head and attempting to get her to look at him. 'Maybe if you actually let me _talk_ to your friends every once in a while, like your mother does, instead of-'_

_'NO!' But this was vehemence, not anger. 'No', she repeated firmly. She seemed to find something extremely interesting on the counter again. Booth sighed._

_'Look, your mom told me what they talked about, you know, and I'd say I'm sorry but I really don't see how I can help it. And this Sandra girl sounds a little bit off, anyway, maybe she's just-_

_'It wasn't just her', and her voice sounded petulant, threatening to turn into a tearful whine. 'It was all of them.'_

_'Honey…'_

_ 'No, you weren't there, you don't understand! It was awful. They kept talking about how great my dad is and how he beats up bad guys-' Brennan looked up at this point- Booth looked as if he wished for the days when she thought so too on the one hand and was trying desperately to siphon off some of Brennan's female intuition (she still insisted he had more of it to go around but he maintained she'd developed it after becoming a mother) to deal with whatever dreaded revelation was about to come next on the other- 'and has rippling muscles and shoots people at the FBI and none of them cared that you were teaching me how to shoot, too, and-'_

_'Oh, baby, I'm sorry.'_

_'It's not your fault', she deigned to inform with all of her Brennan-esque dignity as she sniffed angrily, but let him embrace her anyway. Booth looked back over her head at her mother, panicked, as if begging her to just Make It Stop somehow, before returning his attention to his distraught daughter, dropping a light kiss on her head and stroking her hair and murmuring unintelligible words of comfort. Brennan bit her lip in hesitation for a moment and then deciding everything had been settled- for the time being, atleast- got up to join them in the kitchen. 'But they're all like this- the girls. Maybe I should only invite boys to stay over.'_

_'Maybe you shouldn't'. Brennan winced the instant the too-quick reply fell from Booth's lips._

_Christine pulled away from him, eyes flashing. 'Excuse me. Just because I suggested I might prefer male company does not mean-_

_'Christine.'_

_'- that I want to have sex with every boy that I meet-'_

**_Flinch._**

'Christine_.' __**Flinch. Flinch. Flinch.**_

_'WHAT if I decided I'm gay?'_

_Booth looked like he was beginning to think he might be relieved at that possibility, if that meant she'd ponder over it well into the far, far distant future._

_'It is incredibly narrow-minded of you to assume that I would-'_

_'OH. NARROW-MINDED, AM I-?' Thankfully Brennan chose this moment to insert herself under the arm resting on the counter and proceeded to wrap herself comfortingly over her husband. The 'narrow-minded' argument was one that she herself had with him all too often, and it would start a whole different battle that wouldn't finish any time soon. Booth's arm fell around her and he pulled her against his side, seeming to derive some comfort from the touch as he relaxed visibly, his hold on her almost painfully tight. She had discovered over the years the almost surefire way to get Booth to do anything she wanted, and the most effective way of communicating with him was touch. He was very tactile. And very responsive. And very pleasant to touch- all over. His hold on Brennan relaxing slightly as the tension left his body, he sighed and began again._

_'Look, Chrissie, all I'm saying is I hardly get to meet any of your friends anymore- in fact, I haven't met any of the new ones you've made this year, at the new school-' he was doing really well so far, Brennan thought, proud of her husband- he hadn't even called it squint school- '-even though your mum has, and I'm sure they can't all be like Sandra, sweetheart', he added quickly._

_'Guess not', Christine mumbled to her toe._

_'That was a one-off thing, it won't happen again. And just in case, I'll lock the bedoom door the next time someone comes around', he joked feebly, and Christine cracked an equally feeble smile. 'And I'm sure the other girls won't, you know, be the same, like I said, but it's fine- really it is, if you don't want me to meet them when they come over, or check on you at night like your mom does. You're growing up, things are changing now, I get that. I mean, I have to remind myself to knock when I enter a room, instead of reminding you. I just- I just feel like you're trying to push me away, and I'm not a part of your life anymore, that's all.'_

_It was an unspoken agreement that Booth would get to meet all the boys who entered the house, no exceptions- besides for Michael Vincent, who was like a brother to Christine and even slept over quite often, and whom Booth trusted implicitly; after poor Terry Brown had run off crying to his parents the first time Christine brought him around, both young adolescents mistakenly thinking her mother was the only one at home, only to find Booth gleefully polishing his guns on the counter, Christine had accepted that all boys were o be screened by Booth. In exchange for this allowance, Booth had- also without being asked- agreed to put away any dangerous weapons during these visits (he felt quite badly about it too, because he'd grown to like little Terry who was mostly harmless as a moth. Thankfully, Christine appeared to have followed her mother's example as far as boys and dating at her age were concerned, and she had little interest in any of her male friends. The reverse was ofcourse not the case, Booth noted half-bitterly and most grumpily. She'd also taken after her mother in the looks department. And she had Booth genes to boot. And an _Aunt Angela.

_Christine sighed at a spot on the counter between them._

_'You're right, Dad. It was just one stupid bunch of girls, I don't even care what they think, to be honest. I had no right to get angry like that, I…'_

_And her eyes were beginning to water again. Booth gently released brennan who disentangled herself from his arms and reached for their daughter instead. She came willingly enough but stubbornly refused to change her position- arms rigid at her side, little fists trembling- Booth didn't mind though, and he pulled her easily to him- this time she flung her arms around him and buried her face in his shirt._

_Her husband was still holding their daughter- whose reluctance to accept the embrace had faded in about five seconds as she now clung to him like her life depended on it- and offering gentle words of comfort. There was something about the way Booth called Christine 'baby'- so different from the intonation he used when he was talking to her- that warmed Brennan's heart every time. She stroked her daughter's hair affectionately, and Christine pulled away a tear-streaked face (for a moment, Brennan saw Parker when he had fallen from the swing many years ago and refused to let go of Brennan for the rest of the day, much to his father's bemusement- and her own) and then burst into renewed sobs._

_'I'm sorry, mommy!'_

_'It's not me you should be apologising to, love', Brennan responded gently, and Christine looked up at her father in whose arms she still stood, looking much younger and smaller than she was. _

_'I'm so sorry, Daddy.' And with this she buried her face in his t-shirt again, leaving a bewildered Booth to stroke her hair._

_'Hey, hey it's OK.' He looked at Brennan again, expression half-part a plea for help, half chastising._

_'-don't even know why I'm crying-'_

_Brennan murmured something that sounded suspiciously like, 'I expect it's the hormones' while Booth flashed her another look of warning- and pure terror- but Christine couldn't hear over the sound of her stuffed head and pounding ears. She finally pulled away from Booth, wiping her eyes thoroughly- Booth actually reached out and appeared to catch himself at the last moment, prepared to stop the violence of the gesture._

_'Right. Right. I'm uh, I'm going to bed. I'll see you both in the morning.' And with that, she scooped up all her discarded snacks- or as many as she could carry, melted ice cream and all- and made her way towards the staircase. She refused to meet either parent's eyes, but when she reached the top of the landing, she turned and called down softly,_

_'Goodnight, Mom. Dad.'_

_Booth, who had sunk down on one of the stools at the kitchen counter, groaned and rested his head against Bones' stomach, over the fluffy bathrobe- like he had done over a decade ago when Christine was growing in there- and she stroked her hands through his (allegedly) rapidly greying hair. _

Her parents were in much the same position, and Christine Booth was standing on that same landing now, dressed in an elegant, flowy black dress with a lower hem and a higher neckline that her mother had helped her pick out a few weeks ago. She couldn't make out what her parents were saying but her bad mood was quite forgotten.

'How come she still likes you, huh?' Booth had grumbled, moments earlier. 'And all her new little friends do, too.' It was true, Christine's friends loved her mother, with her cool stories of old digs and mummified remains, and her cool hairstyle and fashion sense, and her cool FBI husband. And they simply adored Angela, who without a daughter of her own had taken over all the 'girl duties' that were denied her by her two sons as a self-appointed fairy godmother.

'I think the problem was that they liked you too much, Booth', Brennan snorted, picking up her wrap as they caught sight of their daughter on the stairs, and calling after her to hurry as they were getting late for the FBI gala.

'That was ONE girl, Bones, and ONE time-' His wife laughed as he began guiding her towards the door and with that open, unguarded, beautiful sound- her ringing ratpack laugh- he found he couldn't even be annoyed about it anymore.

'Also, I gave young Sandra some advice on being confident in one's partner and level of readiness before embarking on a potential sexual relationship and practising safe and responsible sex', she informed him. Booth nodded, but scrunched up his face indicating he didn't want to hear any more. Brennan paused thoughtfully and tapped a finger to her chin. 'She seemed _most _eager to receive guidance from me.'

'Huh.' Booth picked up his keys from the bowl by the door and began ushering her out. 'And where was Christine during all of this?' he questioned distractedly, looking back to check if the child- young adult, he reminded himself- in question had followed them.

'In the room, ofcourse. I told her the same things.'

'And don't think I'm not going to talk to Angela about this, honest-' (Luckily for them, Angela simply found Booth's concern amusing, and extremely sexy- much to the displeasure of Booth and Hodgins and Christine.) But then the previous wording of Brennan's response registered.

'YOU DID WHAT-?'

'Mommy, Daddy, I'm ready to go!' Their chipper little girl appeared at his elbow, smiling deviously. She was quite obviously thrilled at hearing that tone- and that decibel level- directed at someone else. Ducking under her father's arm, she stepped out into the bright, sunny evening.

'Beautiful day, isn't it?'

Booth rolled his eyes and stepped out after her, scowl firmly in place and hand resting on Brennan's back.

'You look gorgeous, by the way.'

'Thank you', Brennan smiled happily and straightened the already impeccable lapel on his tux, reaching up to peck him on the cheek. 'So do you.'

_Oh yeah, they were one loving, dysfunctional family unit, alright._

* * *

*** What the ruddy hell is the deal with that clock?**

**A/N: Well, that's all folks. Update on Purak to come soon. :) Read and review this if you want more! I haven't decided whether to leave it here or add more drabbles to the collection as they come to mind.**


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